Ed Waffle

Wonderful! It may be an old media view of things but a critic's slot at a newspaper in New York City is very impressive. And they couldn't have chosen a better critic. Lovely that your work will be available to a new audience.

Thanks for the reminder about this one. Christie and Sutherland are truly wonderful. Off-season Venice isn't bad, either, in a major supporting role. All three have remained in my memory for a long, long time. I think "The Comfort of Strangers" which also features Venice at its most forbidding is a really frightening movie although possibly not horror as such. Based on a novel by Ian McEwan and a play by Harold Pinter, neither of which I will read--the movie was enough, although it is a very well made film. Dread may be a better term than horror here. The one moment in a movie that scared me the most is from "Repulsion". It was when Catherine Deneuve, alone and slowly going insane, feels there is someone else in her apartment. There isn't but when she looks in a mirror on a bedroom closet door and then swings it closed, the reflection of a man appears as it moves. My wife saw "Psycho" first run when she was in college and learned to take really quick showers in the dorm bathroom for several weeks afterwards. The first J-Horror movie I watched was "Audition" by Takashi Miike. It is one really messed up movie, full of grotesque body horror and insanely suspenseful. I initially rented it because I thought it was a romantic comedy (strange but true), not having heard of Miike and watched it with a friend who is a total horror buff. Japanese horror movies are extremely scary and often repulsive.

I read the entire article out of a sense of duty although I could have stopped at the quoted sentence since Delingpole dismissed as "treats" two works of art that I can't imagine not being part of my life. His "I'm saving them up for when I'm older" is saying that he will never watch, read or listen to any of the items on his oddly unbalanced list: all of Beckett but only late Pinter; Nigerian poetry and Kabuki theatre, named perhaps to give his dismissals a cross cultural slant; mime, the most convenient of all whipping boys; the Ring Cycle and "In search of lost time" both of them too long, too foreign and too high culture although Proust gets a flippant "of course" since it almost goes without saying that every educated person whose first language is English knows of and is amused by the idea of reading it. His dismissal of ballet I wouldn't touch with a ten foot (deling)pole. To answer the original question I feel a sense of obligation to have read something although that wasn't the case in the past. It seems I read more in my late teens and early twenties than in all the rest of time (which is a lot) since then. I was just discovering authors and would check out shelves full of Hawthorne, Nabokov, Tolstoy, Flaubert, Hardy, Stendhal etc., plus a bunch of contemporary Americans from the Chicago Public Library and devour them. An exciting time. It was later that thoughts of "I really should read some Dickens (or Hemingway or Emerson)" came up.

I recall my first encounter with Updike--a long except of "Rabbit Redux" in "The Atlantic Monthly" in 1971. I was at the library, then the bookstore the next morning to get a stack of his novels. His worlds of suburban angst, sex and death seemed to commonplace on the surface but so wretchedly off-kilter once you got past the exquisite facade his prose created. He kept working right up to the end--"The Widows of Eastwick" hasn't been out that long and her remained a regular in "The New Yorker". Updike dead now and Plimpton and Halberstram dying not so terribly long ago. Not much connects them (at least that I can think of just now) other than they were easterners with great educations and who wrote beautifully although very different styles, genre and subect matters. RIP.

In the Mood for Love Written, produced and directed by Wong Kar-Wai, shot by Christopher Doyle, with Maggie Cheung Man-Yuk and Tony Leung Chiu-Wai. One of my favorites, a movie I watch at least once a year. Maggie Cheung has (at least) 32 costume changes, always into yet another perfectly cut, brilliantly patterned cheongsam. Chungking Express also written and directed by Wong Kar-Wai, shot by Christopher Doyle, with an astounding cast of Hong Kong actors at the top of their game. Two barely related stories of two Hong Kong police officers. The stories connect in the basement of the huge Chungking Mansions, "a labyrinth of guesthouses, curry restaurants, African bistros, clothing shops, sari stores, and foreign exchange offices" (Wikipedia) and Chungking Express is the fast food counter where the cops stop for lunch. Hard to summarize, still controversial among Hong Kong movie fans--some hate it, some (like me) love it. Shaolin Soccer written and directed by Stephen Chow Sing-Chi who also stars. Includes most of Chow's usual rep company, a parody of and commentary on both sports movies and kung fu movies. Made before Kung Fu Hustle in many ways superior to it. Probably any of Carlos Saura's Flamenco Trilogy but particularly Carmen with Antonio Gades, Laura del Sol, Cristina Hoyos, chroreographed by Saura and Gades. One of the best retellings of the Merimee/Bizet Opera comique hit. Almost anything by Pedro Almodovar although I am currently enamored with Hable con ella (Talk to Her). When it opened in one of the two "art house" movie theaters in Motown I watched it once, walked to the box office and bought a ticket for the next showing since I was so awed by my first viewing I felt I missed most of it. Also Todo sobre mi madre (All about my Mother) and any of his earlier ones with Carmen Maura. Throne of Blood by Akira Kurosawa. His retelling of "Macbeth" with the great Toshiro Mifune. Shot in sumptuous black and white, just about every scene is a masterpiece. Yojimbo, written, directed, edited and produced by Kurosawa, Mifune as a wily ronin who is hired by both factions of a divided town. A terrific Samurai movie and very funny. High and Low one of Kurosawa's most gripping "modern" movies although full of the same moral questions and ambiguities that are part of all of his work. And then there is...

I have been listening to "The Iliad" recently. This is the Fitzgerald translation, which I read many years ago, and is narrated by George Guidall. Seems to be an excellent combination of translation and performer--some passages that one (me, for example) may fly though quickly or even skip over have a whole new meaning when heard. The gathering of the fleet for the voyage to Troy, with each city, the number of ships from each of them and their commanders, comes across more as a special effect than as a list--it has a cumulative effect on the listener. I picked up this set (10 discs, 16 hrs, 45 min) when I knew I was going to be spending a lot of time in surgical waiting rooms--lots of time, little ability to concentrate for long--and was happy that I did. May grab "The Odyssey" next.

Almost always the case for me--currently reading several books on torture, particularly in Algeria and Central America, although when "Real World" by Natsuo Kirino hit the bookstores I dropped everything having become a complete fanboy with "Out" and going bonkers of "Grotesque", a novel that I am loathe to re-read--it simply couldn't be as good the second time through. My only complaint regarding "Real World" is its length--while Kirino did exactly what she wanted in 200 pages I would have been grateful for a few hundred more.

The only biography of Stalin I have read goes way back--"Stalin, A Political Biography" by Isaac Deutscher. As I recall it would only be useful now for those interested in the history of Bolshevism from 1905 to 1917. Additionally read the three volume biography of Trotsky by the same author.

Not sure if the passage of time has made your question moot but if not, I don't think it would be appropriate for middle schoolers. There are some very graphic descriptions of sex (brief, well done in context but still not for kids) and how Prometheus is tortured by having his liver ripped out by an eagle every day--again she doesn't dwell on it but there it is.

Just finished two short books--one very short. The very short one is Weight by Janet Winterson which is part of the Canongate Publishing series of retelling of myths by modern writers. This one is Atlas--his birth, life and why he had to hold up the world. Not many words here but each of the obviously chose with great care. I am going to re-read it in a couple of months--Winterson's wordplay is wonderfully funny and illuminating and I must have missed a good bit of it the first time through. I read another of this series last year, The Penelopiad, Margaret Atwood's take on what happened at home while Odysseus was taking 20 years to return from Troy, another I can recommend although not quite as highly as "Weight". The other book is Nothing Serious by Justine Levy which I picked up because of the current coverage of Carla Bruni and Nicolas Sarkozy. It is well written although in a "look at all the horrible things that have happened to me" style. Even with all her whining Levy was an easy person to like. She is the daughter of Bernard Henri Levy, a person whose greatest fan I am not and who seems to be one of the leading public intellectuals in France, a place where such a thing still exists. The real point of the book is that one should be very careful when offending an author--Verses on the Death of Dr. Swift, D.S.P.D. is another example of many that come to mind. The tawdry details of Bruni and Levy are probably known to many here and others can find them quickly with an internet search and Levy's brief descriptions/discussions of Bruni are devastating even in translation. It is currently OOP in the U.S. but readily available online.

bart wrote: Very much so according to Bayard. One of his categories is books which I have read but forgotten. Others are books I have skimmed, books I have heard of and books I have read about. He also covers why one should not read a book before writing about it. Funny book which, according to Bayard, everyone who reads this thread can now discuss intelligently. He also gives clues on how to deal with discussing a book one hasn't read with those who have not only read it but read it carefully or even with the author of the book.

Other than Harold Bloom who was very widely quoted as saying her selection was “pure political correctness.” I first read "The Golden Notebook" when I was about twenty years old in the days when I virtually devoured books. I picked it up again a couple of days ago and, two hundred pages in, find that it is much more enthralling than I recalled. Anna's life is an epic. Lessing uses these sudden but so subtle as to be almost unnoticable shifts in the point of view of the narrator to tell Anna's story in great and greatly readable detail. The sins of the Nobel committee for the literature prize are and must be of omission--while a case can always be for chosing any year's winner over the rest of the field there have been some inexplicable exclusions. There was a window of about thirty years in which Graham Greene could have won, to cite one of the (for me) most egregiously unexplainable examples. But Lessing is wonderful. My reading and re-reading of her will probably start and stop with "The Golden Notebook" and I am very happy to have rediscovered her.

Especially when you consider that "The Secret" has been at the top of the nonfiction best seller lists for months. I realize that it stretches the definition of "book"--while it is printed on paper, bound between covers and sold at bookstores--it is actually a book-like object in which the packaging, marketing and distribution were more important than its content which could have been printed on an index card with room left over for a grocery list.

Read parts of The God Delusion and The End of Faith. Harris is a fine polemicist but there isn’t anything new or even very interesting in his book. He quotes from parts of the Old and New Testaments in order to disprove or ridicule other parts of it or of Christian beliefs generally, something which has been done before—a lot. He does it well and perhaps it was time to shoot more fish in this particular barrel. Dawkins has a broader approach but I found it didn’t really speak to me—I felt, for example, while reading his chapter on Aquinas the his five proofs of the existence of god that I had dealt with that sufficiently about 30 years before. Not sure at whom these books are aimed although the publishers knew their markets since both have had very decent sales, Dawkins in particular. Christopher Hitchens, over the past several years, has become a “desert island” writer for me—he should be on a desert island for a few years. Three other books: The Yiddish Policeman’s Union by Michael Chabon is a terrific book which I flew through in a couple of days. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, a book that several people whose opinions I respect, had suggested, is now near the top of my list. The Yiddish Policeman’s Union takes place during the final days of the Federal District of Sitka, a self-governing but temporary Alaskan refuge set up during World War II as a refuge for European Jews fleeing the Nazis. It works very well as a hard-boiled mystery and also on several other levels. Free Food for Millionaires by Min Jin Lee is a novel of manners of middle class and upper middle class Korean-Americans and others in New York City. I abandoned it after about 100 pages—something I typically do—but found myself wondering what was happening with Casey, Tina, Jay and the rest of the gang, so obviously I had to finish it. She describes perfectly the daily life of a young investment banker among many other things. A Nail Through the Heart by Timothy Hallinan is one of a small spate of mysteries set in Thailand written by gwielo/farang/Caucasians who have lived in East or Southeast Asia that have come out recently. John Burdett’s trilogy—Bangkok 8, Bangkok Haunts and Bangkok Tattoo—also fall into this category. They are very dark and very well done mysteries. Will probably dip into Christopher G. Moore next. In addition I picked up We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live, the collected nonfiction (up to but not including The Year of Magical Thinking) of Joan Didion. I may have read every word she has published, usually at the time of publication and I like to wallow in her prose every once in a while. This is a perfect book for that, all Didion all the time

Wonderful review, a real pleasure to read. It is nice to read reports concerning Scott Piper as he progresses and I am not surprised that he was impressive both as a singer and an actor. We heard him here in Motown in some smaller roles ten years ago and both thought and hoped that he would have a decent career. He was the Messenger in “Aida” and A Priest in “Magic Flute” but we really remember his Steersman in “Flying Dutchman”. His aria in the first act was very clear, sweet and had just the right mixture of longing and desperation. We were very familiar with him since my wife had subscriptions to both Saturday night and Sunday matinee. I went by myself twice more in the week that the Dutchman dropped anchor here. Scott’s voice is not lacking in heft, has a very solid core and a real edge when called for. He was a success as des Grieux with Houston and Ramades in Busetto although some think his voice is too small for the great Verdi tenor roles others compare him to a young (or youngish) Pavarotti. He is also quite good looking and cuts an elegant figure onstage. Again, thanks for the terrific review.

“The First Emperor” is an opera by Tan Dun, directed by Zhang Yimou with choreography by Huang Dou Dou of the Peking Opera set design by Fan Yue and libretto by Ha Jin had its world premiere a few weeks ago at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. We attended the show on Saturday at a theater in the suburbs of Detroit. While sung in English it had absolutely necessary subtitles. It was extremely impressive technically and artistically. This is a most interesting use of digital technology and one that might just catch on—the theater where we saw it had been sold out for a week. Any world premiere at the Met will have buckets of money thrown at it and in this case it wound up on the stage. Sumptuous costumes, jaw-dropping set design, brilliant lighting—it was all there. The cast was as good as any could be with reigning superstar Placido Domingo in the title role, Elizabeth Futral as his daughter, Haijing Fu (who we saw as Rigoletto here in Motown years ago when his career was just getting started) and Michelle De Young, true luxury casting, in a relatively small role as the Shaman. Even given that depth of talent, Wu Hsing-Kuo as the Yin-Yang Master came close to stealing the show. Wu is a veteran of the Peking Opera and Tan Dun’s music for him was filled with the nasal tones and octave spanning vocal slides particular to that art form. He created his character through movement—sometimes sensuous, sometimes funny and always amazingly graceful—while singing on pitch and in time which was not something one often encounters on an opera stage. He had energy, stage presence and star power to burn, even given the galaxy of talent with whom he shared the stage. The opera is the story of Qin Shi Huang, the First Emperor of the title, the man who united China and began construction of the Great Wall, a story that resonates throughout Chinese history and which has been told many times. Tan Dun based his libretto on the screenplay for the Mainland movie “The Emperor’s Shadow” and also on the works of the ancient scholar Sima Qain. It has everything that grand opera should have—love, death, betrayal, duplicity, self-sacrifice—but the libretto itself is not very good. In the first act it shifts from historically important affairs of state—nothing less than the unification of China—to the domestic drama of the Emperor’s crippled (although ravishingly beautiful) daughter and her betrothal to the court’s favorite general. The second act was tighter dramatically although structurally pretty clunky with two major characters appearing as ghosts to narrate the circumstances of their deaths. One imagines this is not the final version of libretto. Most important, of course, is the music. Tan Dun spent some of his early years in rural China after his parents ran afoul of the dictates of the Cultural Revolution. He has written that this is where he learned about the ancient percussion and string instrument of China, essentially his first musical education. In New York as a student he went to the opera constantly and learned to especially love the long lyric lines of Italian music drama. “The First Emperor” shows both of these influences—the stage band is made up entirely of Chinese instruments including pairs of stones that the percussionists rub together. The choral writing is ravishing although it was impossible for me not to hear (or think I heard) some echoes of Turandot—there are only so many ways of combining the traditional Chinese pentatonic with the western diatonic, western harmonies and Chinese melodies—but that is far from important. The chorus was the most important character in the opera, commenting or taking part in the action and its slave songs supplying the basis for the final anthem that the Emperor wanted so badly. The arias for the Emperor and Yue-Yuang, his daughter, are solid and memorable and Michelle De Young as the Shaman has some lovely music. Confucius taught that music unifies people in shared enjoyment and is both a cause and effect of peace and harmony. While post-Enlightenment western culture seems to be the opposite of Confucian hierarchies our feeling toward music seems much the same.

We have our tickets for the January 13 broadcast of "The First Emperor" which opened a couple of days ago at the Met to decidedly mixed reviews--Tomassini was disappointed, Halterhoff found more to dislike than like--and are looking forward top seeing it for a number of reasons. --The broadcasts may actually work, both by bringing enough revenue for the Met to continue broadcasts and the cinema chains to book them although we don't know who is paying for what; --High definition pictures and surround sound music seems like an excellent way to experience opera second hand; --It will be a chance to hear and see (instead of just hear) "The First Emperor"; --We are fans of the movie music of Tan Dun and I really enjoy the novels of Ha Jin. Note: The list of participating theaters (click on the appropriate country under "Locations and Tickets") is organized, at least for the United States, alphabetically by state but the alphabetization isn't as rigorous as it could be--it took me a couple of tries to find the two theaters nearest to us here in Motown, for example. The online ticket purchasing system--the one I used, there seem to be at least two--is pretty clunky but not completely unfriendly. More info at http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/bro.../hd_events.aspx

bart, in August, (I am just catching up a bit) wrote: Typing the quoted phrase into Google one gets a number of hits. The first is from the website of the New England Ballet Company; the seventh is bart's post on ballettalk.

“The Departed” is, as everyone knows, based on the Hong Kong film “Infernal Affairs”, directed by Andrew Lau and Alan Mak and starring Andy Lau (not the same person as Andrew) as Ming, the undercover cop and Tony Leung Chiu-Wai as Yan, the undercover hoodlum. Anthony Wong is Lau’s police supervisor and only contact within the force while Eric Tsang plays the Triad crime boss. Andy Lau is one of the biggest stars in East Asia, both as an actor and a singer. Tony Leung Chiu-Wai, mainly known in the west from the Wong Kar-Wai films “In the Mood for Love” and “2046”, is one of the most popular Chinese actors of this generation. “Infernal Affairs” is well worth seeing. When I first saw it I thought the title was just another odd English rendering of a Chinese title that couldn’t really be translated but it is actually much more, freighted with meaning for those who strive for the Middle Path of Buddhism. Both the undercover characters yearn for a new life, a “rebirth” but because their entire lives are built on deceit they suffer constant fear, hatred and guilt. There is a title over the beginning of the first scene of “Infernal Affairs” that says (in Chinese) "The worst of the Eight Hells is called Continuous Hell. It has the meaning of Continuous Suffering.” The horrifying reality is that Ming and Yan are locked into a living hell of unbearable pressure that must lead to the ultimate darkness of Avici Hell, where time and space seem not to exist until one’s noxious karma is spent. All of that aside, “Infernal Affairs” is a thrilling movie and has the additional advantage, at least for me, of not having Jack Nicholson once again playing Jack Nicholson.

This may have been covered already in other threads, but Robert Caro’s three volume biography of Lyndon Johnson is as good a political biography as I have ever read. The first volume, “The Path to Power” in enthralling—it discusses in great detail how growing up in poverty in the central Texas hill country shaped everything that LBJ did as an adult and as a politician, which cover the same years saving Johnson’s military service during World War II. The next two volumes, “Means of Ascent” and “Master of the Senate” are as meticulously researched and beautifully written as the first although the subject matter was, at least to me, a bit less interesting although the chapters in “Means of Ascent” that dealt with Johnson’s relationship with Sam Rayburn are as good as anything one can read on how power relationships develop and change. Caro’s other big book—just one volume—is a biography of Robert Moses “The Power Broker”. If you want to know why New York City and Long Island look the way they do this is the book that will tell you. Some of it is heartbreaking—the accounts of how city neighborhoods were destroyed through “urban renewal” programs or the construction of mega-highways. Moses was probably the most powerful person in New York City in the decades after World War II and was as ruthless as one could be in exercising that power. While I am by no means the greatest fan of Doris Kearns Goodwin, her “No Ordinary Time--Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II” seems to be evenhanded and well done regarding their relationship and the strengths each drew from it.

An article concerning the marketing of "Brokeback Mountain", including discussion of what was included in the press kit sent to critics is probably of great interest to a small number of people and no interest to a large number of people who have seen the movie, including me.

canbelto wrote: I couldn’t agree more about Zhang Ziyi as a natural scene stealer. An example of this was the movie “Hero” in which her character was infatuated with Broken Sword played by Tony Leung Chiu Wai and whose competition was Flying Snow, played by Maggie Cheung. Maggie Cheung learned movie acting the way a lot of Hong Kong actresses in the 1980s did—in front of the camera. As one of a huge number of young, attractive and possibly talented actors who were thrown onto movie sets in Hong Kong by directors who might be shooting two or even three features at the same time, she understood that she had to stand out quickly from the crowd which she did through a combination of talent, quirkiness and very hard work. She became and remains on of the top box office draws in the Chinese language cinema and has been in seventy-five movies, many of them wonderful, many of them barely watchable. But she knows as well as anyone how to dominate a scene, as does Tony Leung Chiu Wai. Zhang Ziyi, with less screen time, much less to do and without a huge, defining scene—Maggie has at least two that I can recall just now—is remembered by many as the star (with Jet Li) of the picture. The camera loves her. It helps that she has the kind of beauty that makes men fall all over themselves if she looks twice at them, as did Garbo, but she also has an indefinable, at least by me, presence that draws the audience to her. dirac wrote: After sitting through “In the Mood for Love” several times in the past year and planning to do so for whatever years remain to me, I also hesitate to see “2046”, deciding in advance that no matter how good it would be just about impossible to come up to the standard of “In the Mood for Love” and that it would be impossible for one (at least this one) not to compare the two. “In the Mood for Love” is a movie in which nothing happens—although much could happen, given its themes, setting and characters. It isn’t so much what doesn’t take place but the exquisite delicacy and pace in which irreversible actions are approached and then declined that made it a movie I love. Plus all the different cheongsam worn by Maggie Cheung’s character—they alone were worth the price of admission.

I am not familiar with the company, but... She is listed as a member of the corps on their web page: http://www.australianballet.com.au/thecompany_ourdancers.htm And is featured on the site of a local school: http://www.northshoredanceacademy.com.au/ I generally don't buy Australian Vogue--it is very expensive in the U.S.--but picked up this issue because Cate Blanchett was on the cover and was featured in a an editorial. Even surrounded by other beauties Ms. Wong stood out.

A few suggestions: An exhaustive (and sometimes exhausting) book is “The Magic Flute Unveiled: Esoteric Symbolism in Mozart’s Masonic Opera” by Jacques Chailley. He knows the libretto and score extremely well and gives a scene by scene breakdown of Masonic content in both. While I don’t agree with all of his points—and don’t have the depth or breadth of knowledge to understand some of them—the book is a wonderful help in appreciation this opera. Chailley divides the main characters into two opposing groups—one is the sun, fire and air; the other is the moon, water and earth. Much of the action in the opera is the movement (for example) Papgeno from serving the Queen of the Night to the service of Sarastro and Monostatos’s journey in the opposite direction. Chialley explores how the myths of initiation, especially as part of the rituals and symbols of Freemasonry are all over the place in “The Magic Flute. Nicholas Till’s book “Mozart and the Enlightenment: Truth, Virtue and Beauty in Mozart’s Operas” has an excellent chapter on “The Magic Flute”. He also notes the initiation legends, discussing it in light of the work of Joseph Campbell, while being careful to note that Campbell didn’t mention this opera once in his many books on mythology. Till looks at the power of art, especially music, to redeem humankind from it subjection to its base nature and to reunite humanity with a) the cosmos; b) god; c) its own higher essence or d) something else entirely. Till also knows the opera backward and forward. I absolutely love the subtitle of this book. The idea that the libretto changed halfway through is one that is no longer universally accepted. Both Chailley and Till, as well as other knowledgeable Mozartians read the shift of the Queen and Sarastro and those who serve each of them from good to bad or light to dark as supported by the symbolism and structure of the libretto. I tend to agree with those who see it as a bit of a patched together pastiche that Mozart and Schikender put together to get onstage. The point concerning the topicality of much of “The Magic Flute” is most important. I don’t know if anyone has explicated all of the references that are specific to Vienna in 1791 and the issues or people to which they referred. If so, if would be of interest only to specialists. Rene Pape as Sarastro? Outstanding! Rene Pape is as good a bass as I have heard in a long time.

I thought this was an excellent ad--a jaw-droppingly attractive dancer looking as fit and confident as can be and just the right amount of copy. It is quite appropriate for its context, a leading fashion magazine, although it may have been on billboards, bus shelters and the local daily rag, of course. This link leads to a copy of that is about 250K. I have it on that site in smaller versions and will supply the url if you would like--let me know. The type becomes very hard to read in the smaller copies. http://photos.imageevent.com/deltaforce/au...gue_0306001.jpg